


Diplomatic Immunity

by heortgryre (AstroAri)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Gen, M/M, ROMANCE???????????????, espionage??????, political thriller????, who knows not me!!!!!!!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-01-21 08:01:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21296174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AstroAri/pseuds/heortgryre
Summary: A waning power awakens from the edges of Unknown Space. An ancient enemy, patient and cunning, watches the flickering Light sputter and die. In the space between stars, emptiness and Dark. Republic diplomat and Jedi Knight Ben Solo struggles to bridge the divide between ancestral enemies, while his friend and Padawan Rey documents his descent into shadow. The Galaxy has long been intimately familiar with the wars between Light and Dark -- can it finally know peace? Or will the meddling of interlopers shatter their fragile armistice?
Relationships: Armitage Hux/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren, Finn/Rey (Star Wars), Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 1
Kudos: 5





	1. REY I

“You can come out, now.”

Rey pulled herself out of the heap of clothes and datapads in a huff, a motion that was at the same time indignant and apologetic. “How did you know I was here?”

“I think you can figure out the answer yourself.”

She could, and so did not bother replying; of _course_ he could sense her through the Force, despite her best efforts in hiding. “Are you angry?”

“Do I look angry?”

He didn’t. Ben didn’t smile much — in all the years she had known him, training under Jedi Master Skywalker, she had not ever truly seen him crack more than the slightest grin — but he had his father’s face, and his father’s smirk. A stone sank heavily in her chest, waves of humiliation washing over her like so much shameful fire. He didn’t try to trick her often, but when he did, even the smallest reaction seemed as though he were gloating. “This was a test, wasn’t it?”

“Mmhmm.”

“And I didn’t pass, did I?”

“No.”

She had thought herself so clever, when she snuck aboard Ben’s ship. He had been acting strangely the past few days, suspicious and secretive — moreso than usual, anyway. And then he had said he was going _somewhere,_ and didn’t know when he’d be back, and that Master Skywalker would take over her training in the meantime. Any further attempts to glean more information were met with a stony expression and silence. Restless with unsatiated curiosity, it was only a matter of time before Rey decided she would stow away amidst the cargo. But it was a small ship, not much more than a cockpit. So when she saw her master carry a bundle of spare clothes, disorganized as always, and then leave it unattended in the copilot’s seat, she made her move. There she had remained, motionless, for four hours, hiding her disruption of the Force as best she could. It hadn’t been easy, given that the stench of the clothes had threatened to burn out her nose hairs. Evidently, her efforts had been in vain, though she had not Sensed his searching. But, at least, she could finally escape the smell.

“Don’t look so upset. It was a good try.”

Rey frowned at him, pensive. “You _wanted_ me to come along.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t leave my Padawan behind.” Ben switched to autopilot and swiveled his seat to face her. “Do you know what I was testing?”

“I would, if you had _told_ me.”

“That would take the fun out of it. Go ahead. Take a guess.”

“Hiding.”

Ben laughed softly; much of what he did now was soft, as compared to his explosive youth. Rey had not known him then, and truth be told, she could not imagine him as anything but the quiet, thoughtful bookworm he had become. “I already know you’re good at hiding. Try again.”

She thought more carefully, this time. For a few minutes, the stillness stretched between them. Ben looked on, silent and inscrutable, his dark eyes revealing nothing. Not judging, though — just waiting.

“You…wanted me to come aboard,” she repeated, “but, you didn’t want me to hide — or, at least, not _here…_”

“Good.” He seemed pleased with that, knowing that she wouldn’t get much further without a lecture, erratic as his thoughts were. “If you had read any of the datapads you were hiding with, you would have learned exactly where we’re going and why, and that I was going to bring you along anyway. You also,” he continued, standing up, “could have hidden _here._” He lifted up one of the grates in the floorboards, revealing a space that Rey knew full well was not a standard of the ship model — it was a custom hideaway, and he had stocked it with blankets, snacks, and, of course, textbooks for her to read. She opened her mouth to reply, face hot with shame, but he held up a finger for silence, sliding back into his seat. “Most importantly, you could have skimmed my mind for surface thoughts. Then, you would have known that the pile of laundry you’re sitting in was a trap.”

“Trap?” Her mouth opened and closed silently, a fish out of water struggling to breathe. “What—”

“How long were you hiding there? Three hours?”

“Four.”

“Four hours. You were hiding in tauntaun pelts for four hours.”

“_Eugh!_” She threw one at him, and when she heard him laughing, threw another. “You _ass!_”

“That’s what _you_ smell like, not me.” He caught the third flying pelt with the Force and tossed it back at her, still chuckling to himself. “I had to wash my hands for twenty minutes to get the smell out just after _carrying_ those. I hope you packed a lot of soap.”

It was, admittedly, rather funny. But a prank so juvenile seemed more than a little unusual, given how somber her master usually was. “What was this really about?” she asked. Nothing was ever simple with Ben; there were always at least five layers to everything he did.

“It was about knowing your enemy.” And he was serious again, all traces of humor lost from his face. “You fell for a trap that almost anyone could see through right away, but you were so focused on trying to get what you wanted, you didn’t notice yourself playing right into my hands. You didn’t _think,_ didn’t use the Force when you should have. You found one solution, and closed your eyes to the others.” He shifted closer, grim and unsmiling. “You have to think five steps ahead of others, always. You never know who is trying to trick you, or where your enemies are hiding. A Jedi has to be ready for any possibility, _always._ Always anticipate what others are doing. Know them better than they know themselves. You have a glimpse into their minds,” he said, tapping her forehead gently. “Use it.”

“Won’t they be able to tell if I’m in their heads?” Rey asked. To look within another’s mind was not something that could easily be concealed, and indeed could be traumatic for both parties, if handled indelicately.

“Not if you’re just looking at the surface.” Ben turned his chair back to the stars, taking the ship’s control from the computer and into his own hands, though he still glanced at Rey as he spoke. “When you look at the surface of a pond, you aren’t disturbing it. You’ll only cause ripples if you try to go deeper. It’s the same with thoughts. You can Sense simple impressions, basic emotions, without alerting them to what you’re doing. You’re just watching the fish in the pond, not touching them.”

“Oh. Should I try—”

“Wait. Here.” Ben reached over and grabbed one of the datapads nestled among the tauntaun furs. “Read this.”

“What about—”

“Just trust me.”

She took the pad from his hands and watched it flicker to life. “It’s locked.”

“Is it? Huh.”

Rey stared at him. “Are you going to tell me the password?”

“No, I’m not.”

_Ah. I see._ She closed her eyes, reaching out with the Force. There wasn’t a great deal to sense, so deep in the dark between stars, but she could sense the bacteria living on the surfaces of the ship — and a great deal between tauntaun hairs, much to her chagrin. Their motion silhouetted the ship’s architecture, outlining quite clearly the secret hideaway Ben had showed; she grumbled at the discovery. And, of course, she could sense Ben. He was a siphon of the Force, drowning out everything else with the volume of his presence. _A conduit,_ Luke had called him, once. _A place for the Force to manifest itself._

With great care, she reached out toward his mind, slowly first, then more boldly. A few indistinct flashes popped out at her, but as she forayed closer to his presence, they cleared. A woman, crowned with graying brown hair, austere and proud. Opening her eyes, Rey punched in the letters.

O-R-G-A-N-A

_PASSWORD DENIED. TWO ATTEMPTS REMAINING._

Numbers. It needed numbers. _What year was Senator Organa born?_

O-R-G-A-N-A-1-9

_No, wait, calendar. I have to specify the calendar, he’s always on my case about that._ She added a quick BBY to the end of her guess.

_PASSWORD DENIED. ONE ATTEMPT REMAINING._

Rey growled softly to herself. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Ben smirk like the damn Solo he was. _Different calendar. Maybe…the Treaty of Coruscant?_

O-R-G-A-N-A-3-6-3-4-A-T-O-C

The datapad flickered, then unlocked. Beaming with pride, Rey scrolled through its files and documents, flicking through to the most recently opened message. The screen displayed an alert sent by the Galactic Senate, and a response beneath it, penned by her master and sent five hours earlier. She scanned through his words quickly, her frown growing each passing moment.

“This is going to make Senator Organa _really_ angry,” she said finally.

“Yes,” he replied, voice taut. “It is.”


	2. REY II

Hosnian Prime was a far cry from the other places they had traveled. No pastoral plains or long-forgotten ruins were to be found on the face of this planet. Its surface was sprawled with lights arranged in the circling pattern of streets and avenues, a patterned splendor to see from space. So much life opened up below her eyes, far in the sea of light; used to the quiet of the small Jedi Academy, or the occasional foray to abandoned worlds covered in the scars of ancient wars, Rey’s stomach flipped in anticipation of the thrum of the city far beneath her. Civilization had become unfamiliar, something foreign and terrifying. Its approach, unexpected as it was, brought only anxiety. To say nothing of her master’s foolish plan.

Ben was a diplomat — what the old Order had called a _consular_. It was his job to seek a peaceful solution in every conflict, to reconcile conflicting sides and quiet their belligerence. But to approach the reemerging First Order was beyond foolish — it was suicidal stupidity. The Senate had not been forthcoming with the details of its uneasy peace, but everyone in the Galaxy had heard of the First Order’s atrocities, of the acts of horrendous violence carried out in the name of the long-defeated Empire, and of its mysterious Supreme Leader. But perhaps her master knew something she didn’t. Perhaps he had some inkling that peace was even a slight possibility. Or perhaps he was simply desperate, as the whole of the Galaxy was.

But, admittedly, his written address to the Senate was compelling enough for her to believe in him.

> _For millennia beyond counting, incarnations of the Republic and the Empire have warred, and their wars, each time, accrued bodycounts soaring into the billions. It’s impossible to say who fired the first shot. But whoever it was, it doesn’t matter. We fired the last._  
_It is time for us to put away our weapons. This chapter of history has absorbed far more than its fair share of blood. Our barbaric need to perpetuate this cycle of revenge must be put to rest, and with its death, we begin a new chapter. In the place of weapons and war, we must extend an olive branch and call for peace. Not this disquiet that threatens each day to explode into violence, but a true, lasting peace, between us and the First Order._  
_It burns to approach the Empire’s descendants with diplomatic intent, I know. Allow me to remind you that the sins of the father should not be ascribed to the son. Was it not the children of the Empire’s greatest villain who brought about its demise? Was it not Luke and Leia Skywalker, the blood of Darth Vader himself, who brought about the Republic’s salvation? Their blood is mine, too. If they are guilty of Vader’s sins, so am I. And if they are innocent, so am I. And so are all those within the First Order, who did not commit the atrocities we accuse them of bearing. They deserve the chance to prove their worth, as the Skywalkers proved their worth, and as I have._  
_Leave the wounds of the past behind. Kill the hatred in your hearts. Step boldly forth into the future and beckon for peace, or be left behind in the bloodstains of history, bitter and forgotten._

Rey stared out the cockpit window, the spaceport slowly growing larger, enveloping their ship in a warm, welcoming embrace. The datapad remained clutched in her hands, its words emblazoned across the backs of her eyelids. Doubtless Ben’s efforts would be met with some measure of success. At least _some_ of the weight of his words, however, would be lost when Senator Organa disagreed with them; her distaste for even the slightest compromise with the First Order had grown near as legendary as her actions during the Rebellion. Though Rey did not expect the one-time Princess of Alderaan to wage verbal war against her own son, she _did_ expect that the woman would not take kindly him blindsiding her with his address.

The ship slid gracefully into the spaceport’s hanger under Ben’s careful direction. A smooth stop, a hiss, and the boarding hatch opened while the air buzzed with anticipation. At once, the sounds of civilization assaulted her ears — distant chatter, humming electronics, the whir of speeders and swiftly passing droids, laughter and love and life itself. The Force vibrated, a frantic heartbeat heard with senses beyond her ears, twisting and turning through distant streets and apartments in twirling step, dancing in the annals of existence. Her head spun and, as she gripped the armrest of her chair, she faintly realized she had forgotten to breathe.

Ben must have seen the whiteness of her face as he stood to leave, because he instead opted to kneel beside her, open concern in his dark eyes. “Are you alright?”

She nodded, taking a deep breath. “It’s just — a _lot._”

“Yeah. It is.” He offered a hand, and Rey took it, pulling herself to her feet. “Don’t worry, Desert Girl. We won’t be here long.”

“We won’t?” Her heart sank. “That’s too bad.”

Her master looked at her quizzically, bowing his head as he walked off the ship, dodging the low support beams that threatened to hit him. “I thought you’d be glad. Considering you looked like you were about to pass out.”

“It’s _exciting,_ isn’t it? So many people, and places, and — _things!_ So many things to see, and do, and—” Breathless, laughing, she stepped off the ship and onto a new world, her mirth echoing endlessly in the vastness of the hanger. The Force laughed with her, beautiful and shining, spinning threads of delicate life in gleaming webs across the whole planet; every organism, no matter size or age or distance, was connected, and she was, too. The magnificence of it was _overwhelming._

“Exciting. Well. That’s a word for it.” His voice was distracted, unfocused. Glancing away from her joy, she watched him scan the crowds of people moving in packs and waves all around them, his hands clenching and unclenching in time to a beat only he could hear. He wasn’t _looking_ for anything, though, she was able to tell that much. Rather, it seemed as though he was, very pointedly and with purpose, intentionally _not_ looking. His gaze never mood much to the right…

“Ben.”

_That’s why._ Just beyond his right shoulder, Leia Organa appeared, arms crossed and foot tapping. It was abundantly evident that she didn’t buy his act for a moment. With a sigh, Master Solo turned to face his mother, expression so grim he may as well have been at a funeral. “Senator Organa.”

“_Ben._” She was more indignant this time, but with the smallest of smiles curling the corner of her lips. She opened her arms to him, expectant.

For an instant, Rey thought he would run. He certainly _looked_ as though he were about to bolt. He didn’t, though. Instead, he pulled the small, graying woman into a warmer embrace than she had ever seen him give anyone, every slightest motion betraying the sincerity of the act. Rey had no need to even try skimming his thoughts; she could Sense the love, genuine and pure, rolling off him like heat from a fire, so profound was his impact on the Force. “Hello, _Mame._”

“You _really_ had to stick your nose in this _mishegas,_ didn’t you? Just had an _itch_ to get into trouble? You’re just like your father, Ben, you know that?” To Rey’s unending surprise and delight, Leia licked her thumb and began to wipe at something on Ben’s aforementioned nose — something only she could see, apparently, as there was nothing there.

“_Mother._” He swatted her hand away, his face an irritable mask, but the Force revealed his heart, and it had no less happiness in it than it had before.

“What? You have some _schmutz_ on your face. I don’t see you for three years, and you think I’m going to let you off the hook that easy? Oh, no. I have three years of mothering to catch up on.”

This little display of familial affection had left her quite speechless, but it was clear to Rey that her master was in need of some rescuing — a good portion of the passersby had begun to watch, with some amusement, as a Galactic Senator admonished her Jedi son. “Hello again, Senator Organa! We’ve met, before, a few times, at the Academy? I’m—”

“Rey. Of course I remember you.” Leia’s smile burned brightly, familiar, _proud._ “I wouldn’t forget this generation’s most promising pupil, especially one as charming as you.” She leaned in to give the younger woman a hug, but drew back suddenly, nose scrunched up in disgust. “Stars preserve us, is that — _tauntaun?_”

Rey jumped at the sudden bark of laughter beside her. Incredulous, she stared — Ben had just _laughed._ Not chuckled. Not chortled. _Laughed._ Thrown his head back with sheer amusement and _laughed._ It was the loudest sound she had ever heard him make. “Recognize it, do you?”

“Yes, I do, _unfortunately._ As you are _well aware._” Leia fanned the air around her face, staring at her son in disgust. “What did you do to get your Padawan covered in _tauntaun?_”

“_I_ didn’t do anything. Ask _her._”

Before Rey could so much as get a word in edgewise, Leia swooped in beside her, nose pinched between two fingers. “I don’t want to know. Let’s get you a nice, warm bath, hmm? And maybe a hot meal? You’re all skin and bones, Rey. Has Ben been feeding you?” With dawning horror, Rey stared at her still-laughing master as she was swept away. He had _known._ He knew Leia was going to mother _someone,_ and had decided it wouldn’t be _him._

Well, the joke was on him. She _liked_ being mothered. Or had he known that? Confused, she let herself be led away, with the distinct impression that Ben had gotten the last laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which the Organa-Solos are space jews and I apologize for nothing. I didn't expect this chapter to go the direction it did, but, well, there ya go. Next chapter will probably be from Ben's perspective.


	3. BEN I

The stress of the city was getting to him. It had started the moment he had stepped off his ship, and over the past few days, the anxiety had grown, snarling and ravenous in his chest. Ben wasn’t made for so much civilization — after all, he had been born on some backwater forest moon. He was meant for quiet places, for the long and lurking evening shadows, where nothing and no one would bother him, and he could be alone with his thoughts. But there was no escaping on this damned planet, no retreat from its intruding sound; the Force beat like a war drum here, angry, aggressive, the tempo of some battle on the horizon that never came, only threatened. It was so loud, so _insistent_, he could hardly sleep. In the four days he had spent planetside, he had perhaps slept ten hours.

His nights were spent with shaking hands and angry thoughts. There were few distractions from the overwhelming city sounds, but Ben took what little refuge he had available. He had come prepared — he couldn’t very well teach his Padawan if he wasn’t. Books, notes, archaeological journals, research on history both known and obscure, all littered the senatorial apartments he had been provided, and he pored over all of them in the night, when the beating of his heart kept him awake. His address to the Senate had been reread, revised, rewritten, all a hundred times over. Though it was impossible to forget the swarms of people just outside the walls, when sequestered with his books and his work, he could at very least hold his anxieties at bay. It was the few occasions that he emerged from his room that they became a problem.

And, much though he would have liked to barricade himself away to be left to his own devices, he did have to come out _eventually_. Specifically, for the very purpose he has come to this forsaken planet — to speak to the whole of the Senate, and convince them, _somehow_, to make peace with the sons of tyrants. Every one of those Senators, every ambassador, governor, and speaker, would want to argue with him. His every word would be dissected, analyzed, thrown back at him, while he would be forced to stand quietly, patient, waiting for the insults hurled at him to stop so he could defend himself, only to have it all start again.

It was enough to drive a man mad.

The morning found him seated at his desk, his speech before him, while his hands opened and closed into fists. Dawn did not stir him from his thoughts; duty did. A deep breath — gas, grime, the stink of civilization — and he stood, steel in his spine, and walked out.

The doors out of his apartments slid open to reveal Senator Organa, impatiently tapping her foot. “_There_ you are,” she said, as though she had been waiting for hours and had not just walked up to the door — it wasn’t as though he had not Sensed her arrival.

“Senator,” he said stiffly, though he failed to keep his weariness from creeping out of his throat.

“Ben,” she chided, “have you been getting enough sleep? You look...”

“Terrible?”

“_Tired,_” she finished. “You look tired.” She looked uncomfortable for a moment. “Ben, honey, have you been having the dreams again? The — nightmares? With—“

“_No,_” he snapped, and stalked through the hall, footfalls heavy while his robes swirled around him. His mother struggled to keep up with his long steps. “I _haven’t._ I haven’t had any dreams at all, and would _thank_ you not to bring it up.” His fingers curled, uncurled, hands shaking.

“You can’t be angry with me for asking,” Leia protested, and he could hear the frown in her voice. “I’m worried about you. And—“

“No.” He stopped suddenly and rounded on her, fury billowing out around him, a shroud of shadows draped about his shoulders. “You _aren’t_ worried about me. You’re _afraid_ of me. Don’t think I can’t tell the difference.” She was small, so small — once, she had seemed a giant, but now she was old and frail, and her very legacy dwarfed her. And yes, she was afraid. He could smell the fear, _Sense_ it.

Deep breaths, one, two. He closed his eyes, relaxed his hands, called on the Force to calm himself. Jittery and anxious as the city made the Force here, it still was soothing in comparison to the corrosive Dark. “I’m fine. I haven’t been sleeping enough, but that’s — unrelated.”

Leia simply stared at him, eyes wide. “You aren’t fine, Ben,” she said quietly, taking his hand. “This isn’t normal.”

“It’s the stress. I hate cities.” Ben pulled his hand away, but he leaned forward and softly kissed the top of Leia’s head. “I’m alright, _mame_. I promise.”

She sighed and walked forward, setting the pace this time. “I hope you intend to keep that promise,” she said, and Ben was surprised to hear the weariness in her voice. _She has gotten old,_ he thought, with a pang of regret for his uncouth words, but he said nothing, a silent shadow hulking beside Leia.

His mother talked at him occasionally, but his only replies were mumbled grunts; his thoughts were elsewhere, lost in the frenetic energy of Hosnian Prime and its rousing populace. Already, in the dim dawn light, there were speeders soaring through the streets, people from all corners of the Galaxy mingling. It was as though the night had never come — and, Ben supposed, for some it hadn’t. The planet-city refused to sleep for even a brief moment. Every now and again he would hold his head, stumbling over his own steps, the erratic pace of the city dizzying him, but if Leia noticed, she had the courtesy to pretend otherwise, save for the occasional squeeze of his hand.

It could have been minutes or hours before they reached the Galactic Senate, though the strong sunlight of day suggested the latter. He blinked, the scorching light blinding him for a moment — staying in a dimly-lit apartment for four days had taken its toll. And the Force _screamed_ here, shouted with the thousand thousand voices of all the people gathered in the plaza. Reflexively, he grabbed at his ears, though in vain; this was a sound heard with the soul.

Amid the din he heard a voice. His name. _Mother._ “What? Did you say something?”

“Look at me. Focus, Benny.”

He obeyed, taking a deep breath, shutting out the screeching city. “Sorry. I was distracted.”

“I noticed,” Leia said, though not unkindly. “Pay attention, Ben. This is important. Your rank as a Jedi isn’t going to get you far in there. It may actually hinder you,” she explained. “You might live and breathe the Jedi teachings, but to most of the galaxy, their legacy has been lost. Worse, there are plenty of people who still believe the Empire’s propaganda about the Jedi staging a coup, and some of those people sit in the Senate.”

“Great. I’m sure this will go well,” Ben replied dryly.

“It will, if you keep your Jedi talk to a minimum. In there,” she said, pointing to the senate building, “you aren’t a Jedi. You are the Prince of the Alderaanian Exiles. Understood?”

He groaned, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand. “This would have been good to know _earlier_, Mother.”

“Would you have agreed to come here had you known?”

“_Yes._ I would.”

That gave Leia pause. “You really do think that diplomacy will work, don’t you?” she murmured.

“I wouldn’t subject myself to this farce otherwise.”

“The Senate is going to go hard on you for this, you know.”

“And you’re going to lead them.”

“No,” she said. “If you make a good argument — if you find some way to convince me that this won’t put the Republic in danger — I’ll support you. And no matter what happens,” she said softly, “I’m proud of you, Ben.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, all. I haven't written anything in a very, very long time. Made this account just to post this. I wasn't going to write a whole fic, honestly. I was just thinking about a cool concept for an AU. I didn't know how the AU would end, though, and figured the only way to get a natural conclusion was to go through the whole story. So, here we go.


End file.
